


Unexpected Friendship

by SpideyFics



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Gun Violence, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, May & Pepper are friends, May likes to use the f word, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Protective Tony Stark, Whump there it is, so does tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-25 00:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20367373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpideyFics/pseuds/SpideyFics
Summary: Pepper Potts never expected to meet May Parker, and certainly didn’t anticipate her becoming one of her closest friends, but they both had self-sacrificing, infuriating idiots that they loved dearly, and that was enough to bring them together long enough to discover that they had more in common than just their respective dumb-ass boys.A look at the growing friendship between Pepper and May,  and Tony and Peter's journey towards something deeper and more meaningful than mentor and mentee, as observed by Pepper.





	1. Meeting May

**Author's Note:**

> I love Pepper Potts and I love May Parker and I want the two of them to be friends, so here's my take on what that friendship would be like, told from Pepper's PoV. 
> 
> Warnings for copious use of the word 'fuck', as I feel like it's a word May is fond of.

Pepper Potts never expected to meet May Parker, and certainly didn’t anticipate her becoming one of her closest friends.

On paper, the two of them had absolutely nothing in common. Pepper came from a wealthy family, had an Ivy League education, and had never had to worry about how to pay her bills. May came from a blue-collar family, went to night school for her nursing degree and despite working 50 hours a week as a pediatric nurse, lived paycheck to paycheck.

But they both had self-sacrificing, infuriating idiots that they loved dearly, and that was enough to bring them together long enough to discover that they had more in common than just their respective dumb-ass boys.

Pepper first spoke to May on an unseasonably hot and humid September evening. Tony had just arrived back at the tower after running some mystery errand, and Pepper was exhausted after the fourth day in a row of issuing “no comment” to repeated inquiries about the Coney Island incident, so they decided that they would stay the night rather than make the drive back to the compound. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in Tony’s arms, watch something mindless, and drink just enough rosé to take the edge off before taking her brand-new fiancé to bed.

With Tony in the shower, she went through their evening close down routine, darkening the floor to ceiling windows of their apartment, setting the lights to low, and pouring herself a half glass of wine. When Tony’s phone rang, she answered it on autopilot, not even looking at the caller ID, and didn’t even have time to speak before someone was screaming in her ear.

“Tony fucking Stark, you need to get your sorry ass over here right the fuck _now!_”

Pepper winced, pulling the phone away from her ear and putting it on speaker as the ranting continued. “I beg your pardon?”

The woman paused for a moment, taking an audible breath. “Is this Tony Stark’s number? Or did the asshole give me a fake?”

If Pepper had been less secure about her relationship with Tony, she would assume that this was one of the many scorned women she’d had to deal with over the years. Even if she had harbored any doubts about her place in Tony’s life, she could hear the underlying fear and desperation in the woman’s voice that spoke of something far bigger than a one-night stand. “This is his number. You’re speaking to Pepper Potts, Mr. Stark is unavailable at the moment, but I can certainly pass on a message to him.”

“I – this is May. May Parker.” The anger left her voice, and Pepper could hear the threat of tears. “My nephew Peter has an internship with him, and I need to talk to Stark about it, right now.”

Pepper frowned as Tony walked out of the bathroom, towelling his hair dry. “I can certainly pass on that message for you, Ms. Parker, but Mr. Stark is unavailable until tomorrow morning.”

Tony’s eyes widened at hearing the name Parker, and he darted to pick up the phone, but got to it just as May said, “Tell him I know,” and hung up.

Tony dropped to the sofa, cradling his head in his hands. “Oh fuck,” he moaned. “I can’t deal with scary aunts this evening, I just can’t.”

“Why is a woman screaming at me about her nephew and his internship at eight o’clock at night? Since when do grown men let their aunt call their boss? Tony?”

He dragged his hands down his face to rest over his mouth and looked up at her. “He – um – he may not be a grown man.” At her raised eyebrow, he continued. “He’s fifteen …”

“_Fifteen_? Tony! You can’t just …”

“… and he’s Spider-Man.”

Pepper froze, not quite trusting that she’d heard right. “He’s fifteen. And Spider-Man. Are you shitting me? You’d better be joking, because I _know_ that not even you would be irresponsible enough to let an actual teenager fling himself around Queens in a spandex onesie!”

“He was already doing it Pepper, with or without the suit I gave him! I took the suit away because I thought it was too much too soon, and he _still_ did it, and stopped millions of dollars of Avengers tech getting into the wrong hands!” Tony stood, becoming increasingly agitated. “Did my calling Spider-Man ‘the kid’ not give it away? You know I’ve been keeping an eye on him, I even made up a fake internship to give him an alibi.”

She scoffed at him, picking up her wine and downing it in several long gulps. “Jesus Tony, you call anyone between the ages of five and thirty ‘kid’. How was I supposed to know you were referring to an actual _child _that you planned on making an Avenger!” She put down her now empty glass and stood over Tony. “Garage. Now.”

He looked down at his sweatpants and ratty old t-shirt. “Can I change?” At her glare, he made a contrite face. “Guess not. Care to tell me why we’re going to the garage?”

Pepper refused to answer him, pressing the elevator button for the parking garage and crossing her arms as they descended to the ground floor. She grabbed the keys for the least showy Audi Tony owned, and threw them to him. “Get in the car.”

He obeyed mutely, and she slipped into the passenger seat. “We’re going to see May Parker,” she told him, as she put on her seat belt. “I suggest you spend the drive thinking of how to apologize to the poor woman for aiding and abetting her teenage nephew in his vigilantism.”

Tony blanched, but started the engine and drove out of the garage, heading for FDR Drive. The traffic was light, and they were in the Queens Midtown tunnel before they spoke again.

“Pep, I know you think I’ve been a monumental dickwad and that this is possibly the most stupid thing I’ve ever done, but the kid is amazing, he’s the real deal. He’s far too self-sacrificing, and he’d be out there doing this with or without my help.” Tony ruffled his fingers through his still damp hair, bringing out the curls that always threatened to appear when his hair was left to its own devices. “Peter’s a good kid.”

Pepper sighed, her anger leaving as she listened to the affection in Tony’s voice. “This is more than just mentoring a new superhero, isn’t it? You actually like him.”

Tony screwed up his face and shrugged. “Like is probably too strong a word.” He wasn’t looking at her, concentrating on the traffic ahead, but he obviously sensed her scowl, his expression softening. “Yeah. I like him. He reminds me of me, without the daddy issues and substance abuse, which is pretty impressive given the fact his actual dad died when he was a baby, and then his second dad slash uncle died last year.”

“The poor kid lost his dad? His mom too, I take it, given that I just spoke with his very upset aunt?”

“Yeah. They died in a car accident when Pete was four.” His voice sounded strained and he cleared his throat before continuing. “I looked into it. Seemed pretty cut and dry, the car hit black ice and Mary – his mom – lost control and crashed into a tree. Peter was in the car, wound up with nothing but a broken arm and an asthma attack. Their autopsy reports were consistent with the kind of injuries someone would have from that kind of accident.”

Pepper reached out to rest her hand on his leg, squeezing his thigh gently as he continued talking, telling her how intelligent Peter was, that he was funny and bright and just a general ray of sunshine, and how listening to the messages he left Happy made his day that much better, with stories of cats and churros and old ladies.

Tony parked up outside an apartment block and turned to look at her. “I’ve been pretty hands off with the kid. Made him the suit, pulled his ass out of the fire a couple of times, but for the most part, Happy has handled him.”

“That changes tonight,” Pepper replied. “You want to mentor a baby superhero, then you’re going to do it properly. Be available 24/7. That fake internship is going to be a real one, and we make sure he has access to the healthcare and support he needs. You’re enabling a child in running around fighting criminals, you’re going to be there for all of it, and that includes piecing him back together when things go wrong. You’re going to support his aunt in looking after him because Heaven knows it sounds like that woman has been through enough.”

“I will. Hands off was never going to work with this kid, I should have known that the first time I sent a remote suit to him.” At her incredulous look, he winced. “I know, I know. You’ve gotta remember I was parented by proxy, Pep, at least where my dad was concerned. Not that I plan on parenting the kid, but I need to be more Jarvis and less Howard and not mess this up.”

She leaned over the center console and cradled his dumb, adorable face in her hands, kissing his forehead. “You won’t mess it up. You’re a good man, and you just need to trust yourself for once.”

He held her hand as they walked up to the Parker apartment, and she wrapped her free hand around his upper arm, pressing herself close to him in a silent show of support. Tony was raw and vulnerable, his usual bluster and bravado nowhere to be seen, and she was glad of that – this was the Tony she loved, that the rest of the world didn’t usually get to see, but it was what Peter’s aunt would need. She needed Tony, not Stark, needed to see the man behind the literal and figurative masks.

Tony knocked at the door, his hand clutching hers desperately, and it was answered by a tiny but fierce woman. Pepper could all but see the curse word about to leave her mouth, but the other woman stopped short when she saw Pepper and stuck out her hand. “You must be Pepper. I’m May Parker.” She opened the door wider, ushering them in. “Living room is to the right, take a seat.”

The living room was small and cosy, a banquette and dining table separating the space from the kitchen. Pepper took a seat on the sofa next to Tony, gently pulling her hand away but ensuring that her foot pressed against his shin when she crossed her legs.

“Pepper, do you want tea? I just made a pot.” May busied herself pouring tea, silently handing a cup to Tony, who accepted it with a quiet thanks, then began to pace in front of them. “So, Stark, tell me why my kid is swinging around fighting crime wearing what’s basically a high-tech version of my eighties aerobics outfit? Tell me why the _fuck _I shouldn’t phone the cops and have you arrested for child endangerment?”

Tony put his cup down, but not fast enough to hide the shaking in his hands. “He was swinging around in his pajamas before I gave him a suit, Mrs. Parker. He was doing it all on his own with no back up, no protection, nowhere to go if it went wrong. I built him a suit to keep him safe.”

“Cut the bullshit, you built him a suit to take him to fucking _Germany_, you built him a suit so you could take my nephew, my _son_ to fight people who could have killed him, who hurt him, Captain America dropped a fucking aerobridge on him! I saw the videos of that fight, you had no right to take a fourteen-year-old boy into that, what the hell were you thinking?” May began to cry, dropping down into a chair and pressing her fingers against her eyes. “He’s all I have left,” she sobbed. “It’s just me and him, and if anything happened to him, it would kill me.”

“May, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

Pepper looked up to see a teenaged boy walk into the room. He paused for a moment before heading straight for May, perching on the arm of her chair. She leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, resting his chin on top of her head. He was completely adorable - all tousled curls and shimmering big brown eyes, and oh God, he was wearing Hello Kitty pajama pants – and Pepper felt some deeply buried maternal instinct clench tightly in her chest.

He looked over at Tony and Pepper and quirked a little smile. “Hi Mr. Stark. Hi, Ms. Potts. I’m Peter, Peter Parker.”

“Nice to meet you, Peter, and please, call me Pepper.” Pepper stood, snagging a box of tissues from the table, before crouching next to May’s chair. “May, it’s all going to be OK.”

May laughed, dashing at the tears that were rolling down her face. “How is it going to be OK? My kid got bitten by a spider and now he’s a superhero. Some guy with metal wings collapsed a fucking building on him and he’s woken up screaming for the last four nights and wouldn’t tell me what was wrong because he was trying to protect me.”

“Jesus Peter, Toomes dropped a building on you? Why didn’t you tell Happy? Why didn’t you tell _me_?” It was Tony’s turn to pace as his agitation grew. “Shit, you didn’t even have your suit, how the hell did you get out?”

“I just lifted it,” Peter shrugged. “Super strength, remember?”

“OK, so this stops right now,” Pepper said, getting to her feet. “If we’re going to make this work for everyone, then you all have to be on the same page, and that means communicating. I know that’s a dirty word for you, Tony, but you’re just going to have to suck it up. And Peter, you’re going to have to establish rules and boundaries with your aunt, no more sneaking around behind her back.” She touched May’s shoulder, getting her to look up. “May, can I send Peter and Tony off for the night? And you’ll need to call Peter in sick from school tomorrow morning so we can get all this squared away.”

“Send Peter where?” May asked faintly. “Oh God, I can’t handle this, this is insane, Tony Stark and Pepper Potts are in my living room talking to me about my teenage vigilante superhero.”

“Just to the tower. Tony is going to set Peter up with a legitimate internship, get him covered by our medical care, tell him all the superhero stuff he needs to know. You and I are going to work out what Peter can and can’t do, because we all know he’s going to keep on being Spider-Man with or without your blessing, and it’ll be better for everyone if you’re on board with it. And then tomorrow morning, we’ll go to the tower and get you cleared with security and tell Tony and Peter what the plan is.” She made a shooing gesture at Tony and Peter. “What are you waiting for? Go, do boy stuff. Peter, all you’ll need is a change of clothes, everything else you could need is at the tower.”

Within ten minutes, Tony and Peter were gone, both leaving the apartment with a vaguely dazed expression on their faces, and Pepper tugged May out of her chair and onto the sofa.

“How do you do it?” May asked, her voice choked with the threat of more tears. “How do you watch him go out to fight knowing he might not come back?”

Pepper pulled the woman in to a hug, resting her cheek against her hair. “It doesn’t get any easier. Every time he suits up, I’m scared it’s the last time I’ll see him alive. But I can’t keep him from doing it. It’s just who he is, and I can’t make him deny that part of him, even for me.” She kicked her shoes off and folded her legs up beneath her, getting comfortable. “If it’s any consolation, Tony told me that Peter usually does little things like stopping muggings and helping old ladies cross the street. He’s a neighborhood superhero, Tony is more global.”

May pulled away, tucking herself into the corner of the sofa and facing Pepper. “The kids at work are obsessed with him,” she chuckled weakly. “We had a little girl in last week, Spider-Man pulled her and her family out of a house fire. As soon as she was off oxygen, she was running around the place making ‘thwiping’ noises at all the staff and telling us all she was going to marry Spider-Man when she was big. I just can’t get my head around the fact that my dorky little baby is a hero.”

“He seems like a sweet kid. Tony didn’t shut up about how amazing he is on the drive over. He really does want to help, you know?”

May took a shuddering breath, pushing her glasses up to rest in her hair. “I know. I just had a half hour of Peter telling me that none of this is Tony’s fault and that he tried to bench Peter, but he went out and chased down a crazy bird man anyway. Stubborn little shit.”

Pepper laughed at that, raising up her teacup in a toast. “Speaking as someone with my own stubborn little shit, I get you.”

“Do you want to get drunk, Ms Potts? I feel like I need to be a little bit buzzed for whatever conversation you have planned.”

***

An hour and a bottle of wine later, they’d had eaten half a family sized bag of Cheetos, a whole sleeve of Oreos, and were giggling like a pair of schoolgirls.

“I walked in and there’s Peter in his boxers, and Ned standing there like I’d just caught them making out. I’ve been waiting to have a very special conversation with Peter about him being gay or bi or whatever, when actually, Ned had caught him climbing in through the window and across the fucking _ceiling_,” May cackled, then visibly drooped, her mood taking an abrupt downward turn. “So, I guess we need to talk about what we’re going to do about my stupidly selfless nephew and how we’re going to stop him getting killed.”

“The internship is a good place to start. I think it’s important that Tony and Peter really get to know one another, build up a relationship to draw on when Peter needs support. Initially, two evenings a week, and every other Saturday, all day. Tony wants Peter to know how to make one of his suits, be involved in the design and coding. He also suggested having someone come in and train Peter in hand-to-hand combat …”

“What? No! I don’t want him fighting like that!” May snapped. “No. Absolutely not.”

Pepper took May’s hands in hers, steadying them. “May, Peter needs to learn how to pull his punches. He’s not joking when he says he has super strength; Tony says he can probably lift upwards of ten tonnes, and that’s a conservative estimate. It’s not about making him a fighter, Peter doesn’t work like that, it’s about keeping him safe and making sure he doesn’t accidentally hurt someone.”

Once May had settled, Pepper outlined the rest of the plan, working out curfews and patrol nights, assuring her that should Peter get seriously hurt beyond May’s abilities to patch him up, Tony had a full medical staff on standby. All of Peter’s future medical, dental and mental health care would be taken care of by practitioners who specialized in working with enhanced individuals, at no cost to May.

Sometime around 1 am, May fell asleep, and Pepper draped a blanket over her before curling up at the other end of the sofa. Something had shifted between the two of them, settling into the start of a friendship, and Pepper knew that while Tony took care of Peter, she’d be taking care of May.


	2. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"It wasn’t exactly a traditional Thanksgiving, but it was ours. But that was then and now we have to build a new tradition and we both want you to be a part of it. If you want to.”_  
  
As Peter and May face their first Thanksgiving without Ben, they invite Pepper and Tony to join them for dinner, but the night doesn't go according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter details the aftermath of a gun shot wound, and contains non-graphic description of emergency medical care.

By November, the Parker-Potts-Stark consortium had a well-established routine. Tony had withdrawn the tower from the market, deciding to keep it as their city base rather than purchasing somewhere new, and Peter and May had their own living quarters there, should anything happen that necessitated spending the night. Peter was allowed to patrol Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday from nine pm until midnight; he spent Tuesday and Friday evenings, plus all day every other Saturday, with Tony at the tower for his internship. Every Friday, they had a group dinner and debrief about Peter’s patrols, which usually devolved into laughter at some of his stories. Tony had somehow persuaded May to accept a monthly stipend that meant she was able to take a new job that allowed her to work three thirteen hour shifts a week, leaving her more free time to spend with Peter.

Pepper had lots of acquaintances, but not many friends, and she was thrilled to find a kindred spirit in May. May was dropping by the tower more and more often, particularly when Peter was on patrol, needing company and a sympathetic ear to occupy her until her nephew came home. Pepper thankfully only had to deal with Tony suiting up a handful of times a year – May had to cope with Peter heading out four times a week.

Saturday night had become girls’ night, with May more often than not staying over, even if Peter was upstate at the compound. They watched trashy films, ate junk food and gossiped, and for the first time in her adult life, Pepper had a girlfriend who just _got_ her. May was down to earth and not at all intimidated by Pepper’s career or lifestyle; she seemed equally at home in the massive penthouse living room as in her own, tiny little den in Queens.

The Saturday before Thanksgiving found Pepper and May attempting to learn knitting from YouTube tutorials whilst a cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie played in the background. Both were growing more and more frustrated and May had let loose with some particularly inventive swearing when she dropped yet another stitch.

“Whose stupid idea was this?” May groaned, letting her knitting fall into her lap.

“I’m pretty sure your darling nephew is to blame,” Pepper told her, as she formed what she thought was a pretty respectable purl stitch. “’We should do a handmade gift exchange for Christmas!’” she trilled in a bad Queens accent. “Sound familiar?”

“And _I’m _pretty sure that your darling fiancé suggested girls versus boys – you know they’re going to show up with some ridiculous gadget they made in the lab, they have an unfair advantage.” May unravelled all her knitting and started laboriously casting on fresh stitches. “Hey, what are you and Tony doing for Thanksgiving?”

“Nothing much, it’ll just be the two of us. How about you and Peter?”

“I usually end up working, but now I’ve switched to elective surgery, I get holidays off. This is probably my first Thanksgiving off since Peter came to live with us, and he’s got it into his head that he wants to cook everything from scratch. He’s made a spreadsheet of timings, has a Pinterest board of recipes – it’s like he’s the middle-aged woman of our family, the little goof.” May looked shy for a moment and bit her lip, looking down at the tangle of wool in her hands. “We were wondering if you and Tony would like to join us? It won’t be anything fancy, but we’d love to have your company.”

Pepper suddenly felt quite emotional, touched that this wonderful, caring, vivacious woman, who’d been a complete stranger just two months ago, wanted to spend a holiday with them. “We’ll be there,” she said. “If you don’t mind us showing up early, we can help get things ready, and I’ll bring desert. Any particular dress code?”

“Peter loves ugly holiday sweaters. If you have any that light up or play music, he’ll make that ridiculous excited squeaking noise that turns Tony to mush. Other than that, come as you are.” Frustrated with the cat’s cradle of yarn on her needles, May threw her knitting across the room. “OK, I’ve definitely established that I can’t knit, life is too short to knit, I don’t want to knit, you can’t make me knit. Knitting is for elderly women who have twelve cats, and I’m neither elderly or in possession of a cat.”

Pepper held up her own knitting with a sense of pride. “Hey, I think I’m actually pretty good at it. How about I knit two scarves, and you … I don’t know, what else could you do?”

“Well, I can’t cook or bake. We know I can’t knit, I can’t sew … ooh! I could make a photo collage, a real one, with printed photos.” May clapped her hands. “I have a few pictures of Tony and Peter, don’t suppose you have any?”

“I don’t, but I know who will. FRIDAY? Could you scan all tower footage from the last ten weeks and create high resolution images of notable interactions between Tony and Peter, please?”

“Certainly, Ms. Potts. I assume I should focus on those moments that show a strong bond between Boss and Mr. Parker?” At Pepper’s confirmation, FRIDAY continued, “I anticipate that the images will be ready within two hours, and upon completion I will save them into a hidden folder and give yourself and Mrs. Parker access via a link I will send to your phones.”

May looked up from scrolling through her phone and grinned. “FRIDAY, you’re the best!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Parker. When you have decided which images you would like to use, I can print them for you and …” FRIDAY suddenly whispered conspiratorially. “Boss and Mr. Parker have just exited the lab with the intention of coming to ‘spy on you and then steal your food’. I estimate that they’ll be with you in two minutes and twenty seconds.”

Pepper and May scrabbled to hide the evidence of their Christmas crafting, finishing just as they heard Tony and Peter leave the elevator. The two of them were bickering good naturedly about something, and as they arrived in the room, Tony grabbed Peter in a cross between a headlock and an embrace, ruffling his hair.

“FRIDAY, I’m so disappointed that you ratted us out to the girls,” Tony complained, dropping down onto the other couch and maintaining his hold on Peter. “I know I didn’t program you to be a dirty snitch.”

“Women have to stick together, Boss. Plus I believe Spider-Baby told you that he would rather the handmade Christmas gifts be a surprise.”

Peter broke the headlock – which had turned into a definite hug – with ease and looked at Tony with an affronted expression that made him resemble a confused puppy. “I can’t believe you actually made FRIDAY call me ‘Spider-Baby’, Mr. Stark!”

Tony frowned at him. “Hey kid, what’s with the ‘Mr. Stark’? You agreed to call me Tony, and if you’re gonna act like a Spider-Baby, then you’re gonna get called Spider-Baby.”

“If you’re going to call me Spider-Baby, then I’m not going to call you Tony. I’m not even going to call you Mr. Stark, I’m going to call you Mr. Stank.” Peter abandoned Tony and sat in between May and Pepper. “Can I have some of your snacks, please? Mr. Stank only has these weird dried up little berries that taste like garbage, and plain popcorn. _Plain. Popcorn. Plain._” His pathetic puppy dog eyes scored him most of a bag of sour cream chips and he inhaled them like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

Tony sighed, but looked at Peter fondly. “Spider-Baby, you keep reminding me that I’m ‘like, super old’, and unfortunately for you, super old people have to eat goji berries and plain popcorn that ‘tastes like sadness and sawdust’.” It was his turn to change couches, squeezing in between Peter and Pepper and snagging a handful of chips. “FRIDAY, please refer to Peter Parker as Mr. Parker from now on.”

“Peter,” Peter mumbled, hiding his mouthful of chips behind his hand. “FRIDAY, please call me Peter.”

“That’s fine FRIDAY, you can call him Peter.” Showing a complete lack of respect for personal space, Tony laid his head in Pepper’s lap and stretched his legs across Peter’s thighs before nudging May’s arm with his socked foot. “May, do you hear the back talk your nephew is giving me?”

May hummed in response. “Remind me to increase your allowance, Peter.” She shared a look of amusement with Pepper before running a stray knitting needle along the sole of Tony’s foot. “Get your stinky feet off me, Stark.”

Tony jerked his legs up reflexively, his knees almost catching Peter in the face, and swung around to sit upright like a semi-normal human being. “So, what have the two most attractive women in the tri-state area been doing this evening?”

“Plotting your murder,” Pepper replied. “Just yours, we like Peter, plus we’ll need him around to look after us when we’re old.”

Tony nodded seriously. “Standard evening, then. For a lot of people, actually. Maybe you could start a Tony Stark Murder Club, share ideas. Have you made our Christmas presents yet?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” May said. “You’re just going to have to be a good boy and wait to see what Santa leaves in your stocking.”

Peter gave his aunt a spectacular side eye, his face screwing up in disgust. “Ew, May. Gross.”

“Not my fault you have a filthy mind at such a young age, Peter Parker. That was an entirely innocent comment and I can’t help it if I’m unintentionally flirtatious. I’d _never_ flirt with Tony Stark, I do have standards – no offence, Pepper.”

“None taken,” Pepper laughed. “I appreciate that Tony is a very acquired taste, especially when you get to know him.” She leaned over to press her lips against Tony’s in a fleeting kiss, making him lose his hangdog expression.

Peter looked ready to combust from sheer teenaged boy embarrassment and he flipped himself backwards over the couch. “I’m exhausted and also slightly traumatized, so I’m going to go to bed to get away from the kissing and unintentional flirting.” He leaned over to kiss May on the cheek, waved goodnight to Pepper and Tony, and walked away, pausing when he got to the door to his and May’s personal quarters. “Pepper, did May ask you about Thanksgiving?”

“She did, and we’ll be there.” She laughed as Peter did a happy little fist pump, his smile lighting up his face.

“Awesome!” With another little wave, he disappeared behind the door.

“What did I miss?” Tony asked. “Why is the kid asking about Thanksgiving and why will we be there?”

May began to tidy up the food from the coffee table, her mood suddenly subdued. “He – _we_ – really want you to come to Thanksgiving with us. You’re both family now.” She paused, twisting an empty chip bag into a knot. “This – this is the first Thanksgiving without Ben and I already know it’s going to be hard. We used to order dinner from Boston Market, because one or both of us was always working, and neither of us had jobs where you could just clock out at the end of shift. It wasn’t exactly a traditional Thanksgiving, but it was _ours_. But that was then and now we have to build a new tradition and we both want you to be a part of it. If you want to.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “I see where the kid gets his stream of consciousness tendencies from. And hell yeah, we’ll be there. Thank you for inviting us.” He moved to hug her, surprising everyone in the room, probably himself most of all. “Peter is one of the best things in my life, you know that, right? I think the world of that kid, and you too.”

May stepped back out of his embrace, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. “I know I gave you shit back when I found out, and I’m sorry. I didn’t know then how much Peter means to you.” She laughed wetly, a sob catching in her throat. “This has been the craziest twelve months. Peter got bitten a year ago tomorrow, and it’s been a shitshow ever since, but the two of you have been an absolute blessing.”

“May, I’ve been called many things in my time, but never an ‘absolute blessing’,” Tony grinned one of his little lopsided smiles, the one that tipped Pepper over the edge into love back when she was first falling for him. It was boyish and sweet and sincere and made him drop at least ten years.

Peter and May both brought out Tony’s softer side, the one that was usually reserved for Pepper, Rhodey and Happy, and Pepper couldn’t have been happier to have new members in their very exclusive club.

***

Thanksgiving arrived in a flurry of snow, and Pepper and Tony stomped the slush from their shoes before taking the rickety old elevator up to the Parker apartment. Tony knocked on the door with his foot, as both of them had their arms full, and May answered almost immediately, the scent of roasting turkey wafting out from behind her. She was wearing a hideous sweater with a picture of a roasted turkey captioned 'let’s get basted', and a pumpkin hair slide.

“Happy Thanksgiving! Come on in, make yourself comfortable,” she said, gesturing them into the apartment. “And what on earth is all this? You didn’t have to bring anything!”

Pepper set down her stack of cardboard boxes on the small table in the hall, shrugged off her coat and kicked off her shoes. “Well, I have a ridiculous number of pies, as we didn’t know what you’d prefer, and we all know that Peter can put away as much food as we put in front of him.”

“Hey! I resemble that remark!” Peter called from the kitchen. He was rosy cheeked and crazy haired and looked incredibly content as he tended to the pots and pans. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

Pepper placed the pies on the counter and hugged Peter, kissing his cheek. “Happy Thanksgiving, sweetheart. It smells amazing in here, how’s it all going? Can I do anything to help?”

Peter wiped his hands down the front of his apron – which was covered with lots of little turkeys and the words ‘get stuffed’ – and tapped at the tablet propped next to the stove, bringing up an app with multiple timers. “Uh – OK, could you put the green bean casserole in the oven for me, please?” He hit a pre-set timer as Pepper slid the dish into the oven, then shooed everyone to the living room, claiming he needed to concentrate.

The three adults sat in companionable silence for a while, listening to Peter bustle about in the kitchen, singing softly to himself as he mashed potatoes.

“How long has all this taken him?” Tony asked, casting a fond look in Peter’s direction. “The kid looks like a whirling dervish in there.”

“He was up and cooking by seven. He’s a far better cook than I am, I think he inherited his mom’s cooking gene. Sneaky little gremlin kept that ability quiet too, we could have been saving a fortune in takeout if I knew he could cook.”

Peter looked up from where he was placing plates on the dining table. “It’s just like chemistry. The hardest thing is the timing. Speaking of, time to eat!”

They took their seats at the table, which was decorated with miniature pumpkins and candles. “May decorated the table,” Peter told them, as he loaded up the table with serving dishes. “She even spray painted the pumpkins.”

“It all looks great, kid. I’m impressed,” Tony said as Peter headed back into the kitchen, and Pepper could tell that he genuinely was impressed with everything. He looked relaxed and content, something she didn’t often see, and it was wonderful.

Peter returned from the kitchen carrying the turkey, which took pride of place at the head of the table, right in front of Tony. “Would you carve?” he asked, almost shyly.

Tony took the electric knife from Peter and began carving, much to Pepper’s relief, as she’d expected him do something dramatic like whip out an Iron Man gauntlet that he’d converted to a high-tech version of a Swiss Army knife.

A half hour later, they were all leaning back in their chairs cradling their over-stuffed stomachs and vowing to never eat ever again. Well, all except for Peter, who was cheerfully eating the last of the green bean casserole directly from the serving dish, all whilst eyeing the last of the mashed potatoes. The kid was seemingly a bottomless pit, and whilst Pepper knew that his metabolism required him to eat at least 10,000 calories a day – and that was just a baseline, his intake shot up to around 18,000 when he was out as Spider-Man – it was still astounding to see such a slight kid pack away so much food.

“Kid, I honestly thought I was going to have to lie and tell you the food was good, but that was genuinely amazing,” Tony told him, making him blush and dimple with a shy smile. “If the superhero gig ever dries up, you’d make a great house husband.”

Peter laughed, throwing his napkin onto the table and standing to start stacking the dirty plates. “I could never be a house husband, mostly because being a husband would mean finding someone who could put up with all of my crap.” He tried to pass it off as a joking comment, but it was very clear that he was serious, and Pepper’s heart broke a little for him, sad that he held himself in such poor regard.

“Pete, if a woman like Pepper can love an absolute disaster of a human being like me, then you’ll have no problems finding someone to put up with you. You’re more of an adult at fifteen than I was at thirty.” Tony looked over at Pepper, soft-eyed and smiling, and as Peter made gagging noises, Pepper echoed the look before sweetly saying, “Let’s face it babe, Peter is more of an adult at fifteen than you are now.”

As Tony spluttered and Peter laughed, Pepper pushed herself up from her chair with a groan and helped Peter gather the dishes. Whilst the meal hadn’t been a disaster, the kitchen was, and she roped Tony into cleaning up, insisting that May and Peter weren’t to help. Tony grumbled good-naturedly as he loaded up the dishwasher, muttering that he’d have brought the bots if he’d known there would be grunt work.

By nine, after a slightly raucous game of Cards Against Humanity and an obscene amount of pumpkin, pecan, and apple pie, Peter was growing visibly antsy, his hands repetitively clenching and his right knee jigging up and down. Every so often he’d flinch, trying but failing to cover it up by running a hand through his hair.

His aunt took pity on him, telling him that if he wanted to go out and patrol for a while, he could, and he bolted for his bedroom. “He gets like this sometimes. He can hear people screaming or shouting from miles away, and the longer he sits and listens, the more wound up he gets,” May said. “Sometimes it’s easier to just let him go out and burn off all that nervous energy.”

Peter returned in his Spider-Man outfit, mask clutched in his hand. “I’ll only stay out for an hour, OK? Something feels off and I don’t know what, but I’ll find it and sort it out as quickly as I can.”

Pepper had never seen Peter in the suit before, and she was struck by it made him seem even younger, his lithe and toned build incongruous in contrast to his sweet, youthful face. She’d seen the footage of him in action, twisting and soaring through the air, stopping cars with just his out-stretched hands, but her brain just disconnected when it attempted to reconcile Spider-Man with Peter Parker.

He masked up and climbed out of the kitchen window, moving with an eerie grace as he clung to the wall. Snow whipped around behind him, and Tony shouted after him to put his heater on, muttering about spider kids with no common sense or self-preservation skills.

May slid the window closed, then activated the tracker Tony had made for her, setting it down on the coffee table. A hologrammatic display showed Peter’s location, his vital signs, and allowed May to watch a live feed from his body cam if she chose. The tracker could also be used to communicate with Peter over a secure channel - May had told them that Peter often spent any downtime on patrol talking to her - or listen in on his conversations with Karen and his quips when he swung in to deal with a crime.

May minimized the projection, activated the audio feed and turned it down so that Peter chattered quietly in the background, telling Karen to alert him to anything that potentially needed Spider-Man. He was obviously staying close to the ground, judging by the cheery ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ Peter called out every so often.

The quiet warmth of the apartment and the soft sounds of Peter patrolling lulled them all into a not-quite-doze, Pepper curling up against Tony and tucking her feet up under her thighs, and May reclining her chair. The three of them had moved quickly to the point in their group friendship where they didn’t feel the need to constantly talk to fill up the silence, comfortable enough with one another to just sit quietly.

A sudden alarm made Pepper startle, and May bolted out of her chair, picking up the tracker. “Karen, report,” she said shakily, turning up the volume.

The sound of Peter’s harsh breathing filled the room as Karen told them that he had been shot. The AI’s voice was calm but held an almost human tone of concern as she continued, reading out his vitals.

May gasped and dropped the device, her hands covering her mouth as she let out a sob. “Tony, where is he, we need to find him, please find him.”

As Pepper moved to comfort May, her heart pounding fiercely at the idea of Peter out there alone, in pain and scared, Tony retrieved the tracker, swiping through the displays and pulling up a projection of Peter’s body map.

“Peter has sustained a perforating gunshot wound to the right lumbar region of his abdomen, with an exit wound through the external abdominal oblique muscle,” Karen said. “The bullet appears to have caused minimal internal damage, only grazing his ascending colon, but he is losing a significant amount of blood and is displaying the early signs of shock.”

Tony pulled up the GPS, frowning when the tiny red spider that represented Peter appeared right on top of the blue dot that marked the apartment. “Karen, where is Peter?”

May shrieked as a hand slapped against the living room window, the wide, white bug eyes of Peter’s mask staring at them through the glass. She rushed to the window, Tony at her heels, and opened the window, the two of them reaching out to pull Peter in.

He tumbled to the floor and landed on his backside, wet and shivering, the right side of his suit soaked dark red from the bottom of his ribcage to midway down his thigh, and when May and Tony turned him on to his side, Pepper saw blood welling out of an exit wound just above his hip.

May pressed her palm against the wound in Peter’s back and grabbed Tony’s hand, directing it to Peter’s abdomen. “Pepper. _Pepper_.”

Pepper looked up from the child bleeding on the floor, numb and terrified and feeling nothing and everything all at once. “He – I don’t know what to do,” she said, ashamed that she was falling to pieces, whilst May stayed calm, _how could she be so calm when her kid had been shot, was bleeding all over the floor_ …

“Pepper, I need you to get me the medical kit from the closet in the entryway. It’s a red carry on suitcase. _Now_, Pepper.” May was calm and focused, her nurse training snapping into place and blocking off the instinctive panic of a parent.

As Pepper rushed to find the kit, she heard May talking gently to both Peter and Tony, reassuring them, and Pepper was suddenly struck by the fact that Tony was the one reacting like a parent, Tony was the one crumbling, his voice trembling with barely-controlled panic.

She grabbed the surprisingly heavy suitcase and placed it on the floor next to May, unzipping it and flipping back the lid for quick access. Peter’s mask had been removed, revealing his pale, clammy face. Beads of sweat clung to his hairline, and his lips were ringed with blue.

Deciding she needed to do something other than stand there uselessly, Pepper knelt by Peter’s head, supporting it in her lap, and took one of his hands in hers. He looked up at her with wide, terrified eyes, his pupils huge, and he started to cry silently, tears rolling down his face. She stroked through his hair with her free hand, murmuring soothing nothings to him, _it’s OK Peter, you’ll be OK, you’re safe, we’ve got you_ over and over, not knowing if she was doing it to calm him or herself.

May was a tightly controlled whirlwind of action, inserting a cannula in the back of Peter’s hand and hanging a bag of fluid on a telescopic stand as Tony continued applying pressure to his wounds. She cut off Peter’s suit, ignoring his weak protests, leaving him clad only in his boxers, then spread plastic sheeting across the already ruined rug before pouring sterile water over his wounds.

Peter had gone still and quiet, his hand lax under Pepper’s, his eyes half closed and his breathing fast as May affixed thick dressings over the bullet holes then wrapped his abdomen tightly with a bandage.

May collapsed back on her haunches, the fierce concentration and control disappearing, leaving her trembling and on edge. “He’s stable enough for us to get him to your medical team, Tony,” she said, touching Peter’s face. “He was lucky, the bullet seems to have missed his organs, and the wounds are already starting to close up a little, so I don’t think he’ll need surgery, but he needs a course of antibiotics to try and prevent an infection.”

As Tony summoned the medical team to retrieve Peter, Pepper helped May clean up the mess as best they could before wrapping Peter in blankets. His color seemed to be improving and his breathing had slowed to a more regular pattern, and when he opened his eyes, he looked alert and present, rather than hurt and distant.

“How bad is it?” he whispered, his hand grabbing hold of May’s, and she leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead, pushing his damp curls off his face. “It doesn’t hurt as much now.”

“That’s good, baby. And it’s not bad as far as gunshot wounds go. If you had to get shot in the abdomen, you picked the right place. Not too much to damage there.” She continued playing with his hair, twisting individual curls around her fingers. “What happened?”

“It was like Ben,” Peter murmured, and Pepper saw a pained expression flash briefly across May’s features. “Two guys were holding up the bodega on 71st, and I only saw one of them. The other one shot me when I jumped down from the ceiling. I managed to web them both up though, and nobody was hurt.” His voice was hushed and distant, and he didn’t seem entirely aware of what he was saying.

“Except for you.”

“Except for me,” he nodded. “Rather me than someone who can’t heal like I do.” His eyes closed and he seemed to drift off to sleep rather than unconsciousness.

May’s lips thinned and she got up from the floor. “Excuse me for a moment,” she ground out, before walking in the direction of the bathroom.

Making sure Tony was with Peter, Pepper followed May, knocking on the partially open door before pushing it open to find her clutching desperately at the sink, blood stained hands leaving red smears on the white porcelain as she sobbed silently, her shoulders shaking.

Pepper pulled her into a hug, letting her cry for a minute before silently directing her to sit on the edge of the bath. She plugged the sink and ran the faucets, swirling in hand soap from the dispenser until the warm water frothed with bubbles, then extended one of May’s hands over the sink, gently washing away the blood before doing the same for the other. Pepper didn’t say anything to the other woman, sensing that she had a tenuous grip on her emotions; she just looked after her, wiping away smears of her nephew’s blood.

May leaned against her, their arms touching, and dropped her head to rest on Pepper’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know why you’re thanking me, I was useless. You saved his life, May.”

“I’m so glad that the two of you were here. This is the first time he’s been so badly hurt. He’s come home with bruises and sprains before, but never something like this. He’s my kid, I’m supposed to keep him safe, not let him go out and get shot trying to stop a hold up in a bodega.” May pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes as tears started up again. “He’s right, it’s like Ben all over again. Peter’s too much like him, thinks his life is less important that someone else’s.”

She paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “Ben was a cop. We met at my work, he came into the ER with an assault victim and I thought he gorgeous. I asked him out and we were married six months later. Neither of us really wanted kids, but then Peter lost his parents and we didn’t think twice about taking him. We adopted him as soon as we could. I didn’t give birth to him and he doesn’t call me mom but that’s who I am. He’s _mine_.”

“Of course he is,” Pepper said. “He loves you so much.”

May dried her eyes, then splashed her face with water, pulling herself together. “Right. Let’s get my kid sorted.”

When they returned to the living room, Peter was sitting up, propped against the couch and looking significantly healthier than he had just ten minutes ago. Tony was sitting next to him, his arm around Peter’s blanket-draped shoulders.

“Kid’s already feeling better,” Tony told them. “The med team is about five minutes out, and Cho will be waiting for us at the tower. May, if you want to grab some clothes for you and Pete, you can stay the night with us, and I’ll have someone come in and clean up in the morning.”

By the time the med team arrived, waiting for them in the alley next to the apartment, Peter was dressed in sweats and walking with support, hunched over with an arm wrapped around his stomach, insistent that he didn’t need a wheelchair and would walk down to meet the team.

“Pep, are you OK to drive back if May and I go with Pete?” Tony asked, as they left through the service entrance and were greeted by a paramedic waiting next to a nondescript black van.

“That’s fine.” She caught the keys Tony tossed at her, then took the overnight bag from May’s shoulder. “I’ll be right behind you.”

She watched as they got Peter settled on a gurney, Tony and May sitting on jump seats, and waved them off before walking around to the front of the building to the car.

As soon as she sat behind the wheel, she burst into tears, taken by surprise at their suddenness. She felt wrung out, delicate and bruised, and she cried into her hands for several long minutes, overwhelmed by everything that had happened. She’d seen Tony hurt before, but she’d never been there for the immediate aftermath, for the almost brutal efficiency of emergency treatment and the rusty penny stink of fresh blood. She hadn’t been prepared for the sense of sheer terror and helplessness, or for Peter looking so small and wounded and scared.

Composing herself, she started the car and made her way back to the tower, grateful that the late hour meant the streets were almost empty. As soon as she arrived, she headed straight to the shower, intent on washing away the dried blood and throwing her ruined clothing into the trash.

When she got to the med bay, Peter was sound asleep and tucked up in bed, and if it wasn’t for the cannula in his hand and the bag of blood hanging from a drip stand, it would be impossible to tell that he’d been shot less than three hours ago.

Tony was sitting by the bed, still wearing his blood-stained trousers and Thanksgiving pun t-shirt (‘too much 3.14 gives you a large circumference’), his hand resting on the covers close to Peter’s. He looked wrung out and exhausted, his eyes heavy and shadowed.

Pepper stood next to him and he pushed his head against her hip as her hands automatically came up to card through his hair. “How’s he doing?” she asked softly.

“He’s pretty much off his face on pain meds and he needed a blood transfusion, but he’s going to be fine. The bullet was a small caliber and it took a pretty direct path through his body, didn’t hit anything vital. Cho thinks he should be fully recovered in time for school on Monday.” Peter stirred restlessly, and Tony shushed him, placing his hand on top of the kid’s head until he settled down. “May’s gone to clean up and then she’s going to sleep in here near Pete.”

“I wish you healed as fast as Peter,” Pepper said, as she sat on Tony’s lap, his arms coming up to encircle her waist. He leaned his chin on her shoulder and pressed his nose into the curve of her jaw. “Are you OK, babe?”

He sighed, his breath warm against her neck. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I swear this kid is going to give me a heart attack before I hit fifty. I’d rather be the one with a bullet wound than see him going through all that.”

She turned her head to kiss him tenderly, feeling a swell of love for him. When Tony decided he cared about someone, he threw himself in headfirst, giving his all, and he’d reached that point with Peter weeks ago. Tony’s love and affection was fierce and wholehearted and infinite, and being on the receiving end of that love was like standing in the eye of a storm, a pocket of stillness in a maelstrom of wild emotion. It was scary and exhilarating and reassuring all at once.

May walked in, wearing fleecy pajamas, her damp hair hanging in a loose braid over her shoulder. “That was some Thanksgiving, huh? When I said about building new traditions, I didn’t mean this.” She sat on the spare bed that had been moved close to Peter, pulling her legs up to hug her knees close to her chest. “Thank you for looking after us tonight.”

“You did all the heavy lifting, we just did what you told us to do.” Tony got to his feet, tugging Pepper in close to his side with an arm around her waist. “We’re gonna head on up to bed. If you need anything, there’s a nurse back at the monitoring station, and Cho is staying over just in case.”

Once in their apartment, Pepper nudged Tony into the bathroom and slipped into bed, pulling back the comforter on Tony’s side as he returned from his shower.

He immediately clung to Pepper, and she wrapped her arms around him, his head pillowed against her shoulder, his arm draped across her, their legs tangled together as he tried to get as close as possible. Whenever he was upset he became touch-starved, needing her pressed tightly against him like a security blanket. “I want to write Pete into my will. And we need to set him up with a college fund.”

She’d been expecting that, just maybe not quite so soon. “Sure, I can start the paperwork tomorrow.”

He hummed sleepily. “Thanks, hon. Gotta take care of m’kid.”

His kid.

Huh.

Tony had always sworn he’d never have kids, that he didn’t want to mess up a child with the Stark money and legacy hanging over their head, and Pepper had known that at the start of the relationship, telling herself that Tony and the company would be enough for her. And it was enough, she was genuinely happy with the life she had, but sometimes she felt a little ache, a yearning for something bigger than just the two of them.

Maybe Tony’s growing relationship with Peter would open Tony up to the idea of having a baby, show him that he could be a parent and not irrevocably screw up a child. He had so much love in him, carefully tucked away and only shown to the people he trusted, that she knew he could never be like his own father, cold and distant, so focused on the future that he ignored his present.

As Tony drifted off to sleep in her arms, Pepper filed the idea of having a baby neatly away in her brain. That was a discussion she’d save for another day.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how many chapters this will be - I have a few ideas that I want to play around with that could potentially take this through to post-Endgame, if I feel like making myself cry. Tags and archive warnings will change accordingly should I reach that point.


End file.
